The Hunted Ones
by AlexWayne
Summary: Ten years after the initial outbreak, Joel finds himself doing what he must to survive as he strays farther and farther from who he was before that terrible night. As packs are made and loyalties are tested, he must find where he belongs and what kind of man he wants to be in this fight to live.
1. New Arrivals

The sun was beating down on a band of survivors, ragged, tired, trudging along a main street. The man leading the group was the most haggered of the people. He couldn't be more than early forties, but the wear and tear of him made him look many years older. Behind him trailed a handful of men and women reaching the end of their strengths. One of the young women stopped to admire the large building looming in the distance ahead of them. It stretched high into the sky and pierced the clouds with a tall spire at the top. Even a decade after the outbreak, the Empire State Building still shimmered with a level of excellence.

Suddenly the engine of a car cut through the silence of the hikers. Their ears perked up and eyes widened. A _car._ Maybe if other people are alive in the city, they can get some help. The older man was the only one that waited with a glimmer of apprehension. As the car screamed into view, the others adjusted their expressions from ones of hope to ones of fear. The truck was fixed with barbed wire, spikes stuck off the front, the men in the back held large guns like those that the military use. The passengers meant business. The truck whipped around the survivors then screeched to a halt. The young travelers coughed from the swirling dust of the road, but the older man gripped a baseball bat until his knuckles turned white.

From the passenger side, a blonde man in his mid-forties emerged and stalked up to the survivors. The blonde man was calm and collected. He smiled an eerie smile at the survivors, causing them to shrink back in submission. He locked eyes with the leader and his smirk widened, baring pearly-white teeth. A certain charm wafted from him that could convince you to trust him, even though the lead pipe in his hand would suggest otherwise. This man was called Anders.

"Alright. No one has to get hurt," Anders cooed.

Dave, a young man of about twenty suddenly jumped from the bed of the truck and eagerly walked up to the survivors with an open bag.

"What you're going to do," Anders continued, "Is drop your possessions in the bag, and you get to leave."

The leader of the survivors stood his ground, glaring at Anders and the others. "We aren't giving you a damn thing," the man told him.

Instead of appearing angry, Anders smiled, "If you don't...we will gun down each one of you."

The man stepped back, knowing Anders meant it. Slowly the group began reluctantly depositing their belongings in the bag. Once they were done, Dave closed the bag and returned to the truck. Anders smiled again at the survivors and turned back to the truck. Suddenly seeing the opportunity, the lead man pulled out a pocket knife and rushed Anders while his back was to him.

A shot rang out.

The man's head snapped back and he was dead before his knees hit the road. The other survivors looked around in horror until their eyes found the source of the shot as the body slumped to the ground.

Anders calmly looked back at the body, pursed his lips, then continued to the truck. When he reached the door, he nodded at a man perched in the bed, whose revolver was still smoking. The shooter holstered his weapon and sat back down in the truck. The other hunters didn't say a word and just waited for the car to start moving. The shooter was a man in his late thirties with dark hair and a scraggly beard edged with the faint beginnings of greys. His eyes were dark, not so much with anger, as with a resigned exhaustion.

The truck started up again and peeled out, leaving the broken survivors in their dust.

As Joel sat in the back of the truck, he could feel the heat of the revolver at his hip, but he felt nothing else.

The truck spurred into the open garage door of a warehouse and screeched to a halt. Inside the warehouse were several heavily-armed guards. Deeper into the warehouse were tents and bustling hunters. Including the men in the truck, the band tallied to over two-dozen. As the large door dropped down to the ground behind them with a thud, the men began exiting the vehicle. Joel hopped out from the bed and headed for a set of stairs up to an office.

One of the guards approached Anders. "Everyone all right?" he asked nervously, "We heard gunshots."

" _Gunshot_ ," Anders corrected, "Joel is a good aim, he only needed one."

The hunter's eyes fell to Joel ascending the steps then went back to Anders as they walked deeper into the camp.

"Anything happen here?" Anders continued.

"Nothing. We heard some runners far off, but they never came close to the camp."

"Good, good. Go grab the bag from the truck. We got some good things for the new recruits. I'll want them broken in tomorrow."

Upstairs, Joel entered the office and closed the door behind him. There wasn't much to the room. Just a couch, bags of supplies, ammo and weapons on the table, and bottles of alcohol strewn about the room. Joel exhaled and flopped onto the couch, letting his eyes drift shut, finally having some quiet.

Suddenly the door flew open. Reed, a man in his mid-twenties with fiery red hair rushed into the room. Joel didn't look at Reed, just remained on the couch, eyes closed.

"Joel, hey, I was wondering-"

"What does a closed door mean to you?" Joel growled.

"Huh?"

Joel sighed, annoyed, "When my door is closed, that means I want everyone else on the other side of it. We clear?"

Reed looked at the door, then back at Joel, "I was just gonna show you something."

"Is it life or death?"

"Well-"

"Then it can wait."

Reed was put out and turned to leave the room, but Samuel, early thirties and balding, rushed into the room as well. Finally Joel opened his eyes, frustrated at the stream of intruders.

"There a party I wasn't told about?!" he snapped.

"Anders needs you," Samuel cut in quickly.

"What could he possibly want?"

"Clickers were spotted not far. There were yells. He wants you to head the group to check bodies for supplies."

Joel's brow furrowed in thought a moment until he decided to stand up and grabs his gear. Reed became chipper again.

"I bet you're gonna want me to show you what I wanted, huh?" he threw in.

He followed Joel out of the room, half-jogging to keep up with Joel's long strides. Joel's mood had become even more sour. Quickly trotting down the steps, Joel reentered the main camp and locked eyes with Anders standing with two fresh-faced young men. Reed was busy talking the ear off Joel, who was hardly paying him attention.

"Were you listening?" Reed asked, head cocked to the side.

Joel growled in response.

"Look," Reed insisted and thrusted a 2x4 into Joel's hand. There was nothing special about it, but the end had scissors taped to it. Joel looked at it quizzically.

"Reed, the scissors are gonna fall right off."

"No they aren't. It's taped on," Reed insisted, pointing to the tape, "This will do some killer damage."

Joel handed the plank back to him, shaking his head, "Reed...and I mean this with complete sincerity...that is a stupid idea."

He turned away from him and walked up to Anders. Reed stayed where he was, looking tremendously deflated.

Joel led two young men slowly down the alley, careful not to make much noise. The two men, Brock and Creed, stared wide-eyed, jumping at the slightest sound. They had come from a fallen Quarantine Zone and were fresh to the horrors of life outside protected walls. Many people died when a zone fell. Those who didn't would travel to another zone or tried to hack it outside. Of the latter, people either joined packs of hunters or fell victim to them. Brock and Creed were fresh-faced volunteers. Young. Naive. Joel had seen their type before. Always one of two: cocky or mortified.

Joel joined as the latter.

As they pressed further down the alley, sounds of groaning echoed from around the corner. The sound bounced off the buildings, making it appear as though the voice was all around them. Joel peeked around the edge and saw a woman in a ripped blouse hunched over, her shoulders scrunched to her ears. She was trembling. To the average person, she appeared as though she might be crying. Joel knew better. Slowly he crept behind her, causing the young men to hold their breath and wait.

With speed and finesse, Joel grabbed the woman from behind and broke her neck; a sickening crunch echoed in the alley, and then all went silent. Joel immediately began going through the woman's pockets, searching for anything valuable. His eyes flicked to the two horrified men and he jerked his head towards mangled bodies further into the alley.

"C'mon," he told them, "Keep quiet and search them for any valuables. Food, weapons, ammo, any clothes that aren't too worn."

The young men did as they were told. Creed jumped right into it, rolling a body over. Brock, on the other hand, knelt by one of the eviscerated men and let out a breath. He moved a shaky hand to the corpse's back pocket and pulled out a wallet. Creed found a wallet too and tossed it aside as he continued his search. For many seconds Brock held his in his hand, staring down at the brown leather. Slowly he opened it and saw a photo of a man, woman, and children. Brock shut the wallet and choked back a sob.

Joel looked up at him and his eyes went to the wallet, "Stay focussed."

Brock's eyes jumped to Joel's and he nodded, setting the wallet down and continuing his search. Joel's eyes lingered on the wallet and he swallowed, standing up and walking over to the only remaining unsearched body. Then he went to work.

When the men found all they could, they gathered up the loot and began walking back towards the camp. Creed pressed on ahead, Brock walking a few steps behind him. Joel came up from the rear to walk beside Brock, who looked like he was choking back tears. Just as Joel opened his mouth to speak to him, a piercing screech ripped through the silence. Joel's eyes widened in panic as he searched for the sound. Suddenly a series of clicks and pops followed.

"Run," he told the men, "Run!"

The three broke into a sprint as a pack of clickers burst around the corner after them. The infected stumbled quickly after them, flailing their arms as they tried to catch the men. Brock looked behind him at the clickers and tripped over a garbage bin, crashing to the ground. Joel and Creed stopped, but while Joel took a step back towards Brock, Creed decided to keep running. Suddenly the clickers were on Brock, scratching at him. There were too many. Brock let out a terrible scream as one clicker sank its teeth into his arm and another snapped at his throat. Joel drew his gun and his eyes met Brocks. Joel's eyes softened, showing a broken pain.

He pulled the trigger.

The front of Brock's skull sprayed the infected and they let out shrieks, jerking their heads toward the sound of Joel's gun. Joel didn't give them time to find him, and turned tail and ran. He raced down the alley and whipped around a corner, ducking behind a dumpster as the infected continued running down the street. When they were far enough away, Joel snuck back into the main street, walking quickly and quietly. Suddenly he could hear the sound of a man's yell.

Creed.

Joel ran toward the sound and found Creed had run down an alley. He was trapped in a dead end and rather than stay quiet and hide or distract the infected he was screaming at the top of his lungs as he tried to pull away the debris that made the blockade. Joel let out a sigh and watched from his hiding place. Creed pulled out his gun and began firing at the clickers, screaming all the while. He kept missing. The clickers continued snapping and rushed closer to him, occasionally jerking back as they got clipped by a shot. Suddenly the sound of runners could be heard getting closer. A whole pack would be on this area in minutes.

Joel stepped out toward the entrance of the alley. Creed's gun clicked as it ran out of bullets and his screams became more desperate. Joel got into a shooting stance, pointing his pistol at Creed. Creed's eyes widened in hope for a moment at Joel's arrival, but then it was washed away by overwhelming fear. Joel squinted, aiming.

"No!"

Creed dropped with the shot and the clickers were on him.

Joel turned and walked away, leaving the clickers to their meal. He returned to what was left of Brock and liberated the body of any spare ammo and his gun. His movements were robotic, without feeling. When he was done, he stood up and trekked the rest of the way until he reached the edge of their compound. The guard spotted Joel and shouted to someone inside the warehouse. The door was opened for him. Joel walked wordlessly to a table in the middle of the camp where Anders stood waiting. Joel tossed the bag of finds from the bodies and locked eyes with Anders, who stared back amusedly.

Joel turned on his heel and headed back up to the office.

Kash, Anders' number two, a man with jet black hair and a scar above his brow walked up to Anders.

"Where are Creed and Brock?" he asked, eyes following Joel.

"They didn't make the cut," Anders told him, opening the supply bag.


	2. Ambushed

The sun was creeping over the edge of the buildings, clouds drifted silently across the blue-grey sky. Joel peered through the scope of a hunting rifle and watched a rabbit hop along the pavement. He had only been to New York once before this, when Sarah was nine. They had been saving for a trip and Tommy helped cover him at work. Sarah missed no school as they had arranged the trip over Christmas. They toured the city, ate way too much food, and Joel surprised her with a visit to the American Girl Doll store. During that trip, he doubted they'd ever afford to come back again, and certainly never would he have imagined himself perched atop a crumbling building waiting for desperate survivors to stumble into their trap.

Joel took up the sniper position, with Dave as his lookout. Kash was leading this ambush, and instructed men on how to lay down thick coils of barbed wire to burst the tires of passing cars. A few other hunters waited off to the right of the road, holding onto a dumpster which would be used as a battering ram. A half dozen more men and women were scattered through the area, prepared to jump into action. Joel kept his breathing slow, his aim steady.

Finally a car rolled into view. Jen, a small black-haired woman, was their lookout and waved a scarf, signalling the arrival of the car. The hunters scrambled into position. Joel zeroed in on the beat up car as it chugged along up the road, heading straight for their trap. Everyone was poised for the attack. Suddenly the car stopped. They were still a good two hundred feet from the trap when it braked. Joel aimed his rifle at the head of the driver, then saw movement from the passenger side. A man with a long scruffy beard exited the passenger side and opened the door to the back. There was a flash of movement and Joel repositioned his rifle. From the backseat had burst a little blonde girl, perhaps eight years old. The girl ran to the side of the road and threw up. The bearded man came up to her and rubbed her back as she remained hunched over. He looked around cautiously.

Joel began trembling.

He stared for what seemed an eternity at the little girl as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and trotted back to the car. The bearded said something to her that made her laugh. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter and even from this distance Joel could see the joy in her smile. She climbed back into the car.

 _No._

Joel's scope rushed ahead of the car, locating the members of his team. They were still gearing to strike. Joel's heart started to race and the panic swelled inside him. He repositioned his scope back to the car. The girl was back inside and the bearded man was searching his surroundings. Suddenly Joel stood up. Dave stared at him in surprise, but had no time to ask why Joel had stood when the older man began to descend the building, shimmying down what was left of a fire escape. Joel ran quickly and quietly into a building holding four hunters including Kash and Anders. The car was starting again.

"Call it off," Joel commanded to Anders.

Kash looked at him, bewildered, then his surprise turned to anger.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? Keep your voice down!" Kash hissed quietly.

"Call it off or I will," Joel threatened.

Anders watched quietly, taking in the conversation while Kash boiled with rage.

"You are not in a position-"

"You know my deal, Anders. And they got nothing of value on them."  
"That _you_ could see," Kash spat.

"I'm the sniper, it's my job to see," Joel retorted, not looking at Kash.

Anders pursed his lips in thought.

"This is ridiculous," Kash snapped, throwing up his hands. Peeking out the window, he could see the car was nearly into the trap. "We've almost got them."

"Anders!" Joel roared, no longer concerned with staying remotely quiet.

Anders sighed and nodded.

Joel ran from the building and caught sight of Jen. She looked back at Joel quizzically. Joel motioned with a slash of his hand across his throat and shook his head. Jen's brow furrowed, but she popped back up into the view of the other hunters and waved the scarf again. As the truck crawled by, the hunters remained hidden and did not engage with the passengers. The car turned a corner and disappeared from view. When the hunters emerged from their places, Jen stalked up to Joel.

"Why the call-off?"

"Technical difficulties," he told her, heading back toward the building that served as his perch. As he walked through the doorway, he was slammed into the wall by Kash. The wind was knocked from him, but he was ready to fight his attacker until he saw who it was.

"I don't know what kinda deal you've got with Anders," Kash spat, "But this ain't how things go around here. It goes Anders, then _me_. You are in no position to be telling us what to do. If it were up to me I'd have killed your ass months ago."

"Get your hands off me."

"Why don't you do us all a favor and get the hell out of here? If you don't like the way we do things then you can try to survive on your own."

"I'm warning you," Joel growled, pushing forward.

Kash shoved him back against the wall again.

"No, I am warning _you_ ," he threatened, "You pull this shit again, and I don't care how much Anders likes you, I'm putting a bullet in your skull. Ya hear me?"

Joel didn't reply, just glared.

Kash let go of Joel and moved to exit the building.

"Jus' so it's out there, Kash," Joel began, brushing off his shirt, "You ever put your hands on me again, you're gonna wish I did something as nice as put a bullet in your head."

Kash's eyes narrowed with rage and disgust. He stormed out of the building, leaving Joel alone in quiet again.

He returned to his sniper's nest.

o-

While Kash had been chosen to lead another ambush a few days later, Anders suggested that Joel go with a small group to scavenge some supplies. Joel was glad to not be around Kash, and accepted the assignment immediately. With him went Dave, Jen, and Samuel. Reed had insisted on going with Joel, but was assigned to Kash's crew. He wasn't too happy, but as he had been smothering Joel with questions and weapon ideas lately, Joel didn't mind the separation with him either.

They trudged through East Harlem, checking in the broken windows of cars and rummaging through suitcases strewn about the ground. They had collected very minimal supplies, but Joel was thankful for the distraction. His mind couldn't help but wander to the incident with the car. The memory of the little girl made his heart hurt. The way she smiled as if everything in the world was right as rain. He could recall a night a few years before the outbreak that the bills were piling up, he was out of a job, and money was extremely tight. Being a single father was difficult. Being a single father relying on construction jobs to be consistent was harder. There were times where work was great. Joel was good at what he did and had the strength to put in much longer hours with a harder workload than his peers. But when work was scarce, things got bad.

Joel had been up late into the night, worrying over their financial situation. He sat at the kitchen table which was covered in papers that all meant bad times ahead. He stared blankly at the wall as he tried to think of a way to fix this. Suddenly Sarah was at his side, poking him in the shoulder. He jumped, startling her too. She giggled at the surprise. He sighed, not as amused as she.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking down at the papers.

Joel covered them with his hands and shook his head. "S'nothing you need to worry about. Why are you awake?"

Sarah didn't quite believe him, but her brow furrowed in thought. She knew he wasn't going to talk about the papers, but she had something she wanted to talk about.

"I'm excited for the game tomorrow," she told him. "Nervous and excited."

Joel let out a long breath. Sarah stood by him expectantly.

"You need to get some rest," he told her softly.

She waited, rocking back and forth on her heels. Suddenly her smile faded.

"What if I mess up?"

"What?" Joel turned his full attention to her.

"What if the ball comes to me and I miss? Cost us the game. We never made it to the championship before."

"Honey, you're going to be great. You guys are gonna win tomorrow, I know it."

Sarah's frown deepened.

"But what if we don't?"

Joel sat a moment. He sighed, offering a small smile.

"Then I'd still be proud of you. Cause no matter what you always give it your best."

Sarah's smile returned again slowly, "Really?"

"Really."

She thought it over, smile growing wider and wider.

"Okay," she told him, coming up and giving him a big hug. When they let go, she was beaming with confidence. Her smile was pure and joyful and her fears had been settled. For long after she went up to bed, Joel sat at the table in awe of the simplicity of her joy. He wished he had her ability to believe so fully in a happiness like that.

Now, as he trudged through the abandoned city, he could see how small those problems on the table looked, and wished he had hugged her for longer than he had.

A gunshot rang out and Samuel was blasted to the ground.

Joel ducked immediately, grabbing cover behind a car. A small band of hunters from another group were repositioning themselves down the street.

"Jen?" Joel called behind him.

"Sam's hit," she yelled back, "I think he's dead."

Joel decided he was going to sneak around and catch these guys off guard. Jen could see what he was doing and instructed Dave to return fire with her, keeping the enemies occupied. Joel crept along and entered into a store, taking cover inside. Turning a corner he bumped into a woman in her early thirties. Her clothes were torn and there was blood all over her. Her green eyes were wide with terror. At the contact she let out a cry, holding up her hands defensively.

"Please!" she sobbed, "Those men came after me! They...they-"

Joel clamped a hand over her mouth and pushed her deeper into the store, out of sight. Her tears dripped onto his hand as he pushed her back. Joel ducked behind a counter, yanking her down with him. When he felt the other hunters didn't know where they were, he removed his hand.

"Please, please help me," she pleaded, lip quivering.

"Stay here," he hissed, crawling away from her and toward the store entrance.

Jen and Dave were busy firing. Jen hit two men, dropping them quickly. Only one man remained. Joel took careful aim and fired, clipping the man in the shoulder. He turned his attention to Joel and glared, ready to return fire, but Dave took a shot, killing the man first. Joel's eyes snapped to Jen and Dave's location. He gave the two a nod and turned to go back to the woman.

A hard thwack echoed off the store cabinets as a plank of wood crashed against Joel's skull, knocking him out instantly.


	3. A New Mission

"Joel! Joel!" Jen was trying desperately to shake him awake.

Joel's eyes fluttered open and the ceiling of the store swirled in his vision. There was a deep throbbing pain in his head, and he could feel the warm trickle of blood in his hair. He blinked a few times to try to clear the pain and focus his eyesight. Jen was staring down at him. When she saw Joel's eyes had opened, she stood up. Her mouth was moving in a commanding fashion but Joel couldn't hear her. He stared at her confusedly and then she snapped.

"Get the hell up, Joel. We gotta go."

Joel sat up, feeling a rush to his head. He grimaced, gingerly touching the back of his head. Pulling away his fingers, he saw a little stain of blood coated his skin. He let out a groan and stood up, wobbling a bit as he gained his balance. His backpack was gone. Looking down at his empty holsters he growled in annoyance. His pockets were inside out, his weapons, food, and items from the houses they searched were gone.

Then all this suddenly seemed so replaceable when he looked down at his left wrist and saw that it was bare.

His watch was taken too.

He stared at his wrist and felt a wave of panic and anger take hold of him. His heart was racing and even the pain of the head injury seemed distant compared with this.

"We gotta go back," Jen was saying, "We can get you more gear."

"I'm gonna find her," Joel growled, a deadly deep tone.

"Fuck her, man," Dave chimed in, "She'll get what's coming to her."

Joel's eyes stayed on his wrist as he balled his fists angrily. "Did you see where she went?"

Dave nodded his head toward the far end of the street, "Saw her book it out of the building that way. Couldn't get a shot."

Joel took a step in the direction Dave indicated, but Jen stuck out her arm, blocking him.

"Whoa, Joel. Stop. You can't go after her. You aren't even armed."

"Give me a gun, then."

Jen shot him a look. "You're pissed, I get it, but she cracked open your skull. She got a several minute head start, and you aren't armed. The sun will be going down in a few hours. Come back. You can go after her tomorrow."

Joel stood his ground, staring off after his assailant. He knew Jen was right, though. Rather than saying anything, he turned back, letting Jen and Dave follow behind him as he began the trek back to camp. Whoever that woman was, she was going to pay for this.

-xXx-

In the dark of the office, Joel laid on his couch, eyes wide open and transfixed to the ceiling. Absentmindedly his right hand would slide across the place where his watch should be and he was once again reminded that it wasn't. The rest of the crew thought the incident had bruised Joel's ego. He couldn't give a damn about that. The hunters had an arsenal and more than enough supplies. At this point, they were just hoarders. Everything Joel lost could be replaced immediately, and a woman besting him didn't disturb him, as some of the hunters thought.

He couldn't imagine why she had taken his watch. It was broken. It had been for years. Not that anyone really needed to keep time anymore if it weren't broken. Then Joel's mind went where he didn't want it to: he imagined her taking the watch apart, salvaging pieces of the mechanics and the strap to use in some other fashion. The idea made his blood boil.

Joel clenched his right fist and moved his hand away from his wrist. He didn't want to feel the absence anymore. His hand went to the back of his head and touched the stitches that were now sewn into the split. This time, she wouldn't get the drop on him. He was going to get his watch back, and she'd have to answer for it.

-xXx-

The next morning, Joel grabbed a tattered backpack and packed it full of supplies, and grabbed a sidearm and shotgun. As he packed his things, Reed came up to him.

"Do you even know where to look?" Reed asked quietly, "One brunette woman in the entire city of New York?"

"She's operating alone. That means she probably sticks in familiar territory. We were on her property. She probably won't be far from where we had our little meeting."

Reed frowned, "I hope you remember more specifics about her than just 'she's got brown hair'..."

Joel paused.

"Dark eyes. Green or brown. Tattered clothes, but that was probably part of the rouse. A bandana on her forehead."

Reed's eyes widened.

"What?" Joel asked.

Reed thought a moment then shook his head, "Nah."

"What?" Joel repeated.

"Nothing. There's probably hundreds of people in bandanas…"

"There's only one Brooklyn Bitch, though," Kash added, stepping up to the table.

Joel's eyes narrowed at the man, "The what?"

"You don't know the Brooklyn Bitch?" Kash asked with a laugh.

"Would I have asked if I did?" Joel retorted dryly.

"If that was her, you're lucky she didn't slit your throat. She's merciless," Reed chimed in.

Kash leaned against the table, drawing a breath before beginning his story, "The Brooklyn Bitch is an average-seeming woman. Not tall, not short. Not hot, not ugly. She doesn't stick out as an ally or a threat. Word is she'll weasel her way close to you, really vulnerable like...until she slits your throat in your sleep and makes off with your stuff."

"If she slits your throat, how do the stories get told?" Joel asked, unimpressed.

"The rest of the crew find the guy the next morning, I don't know," Kash huffed, "She's a cold-blooded killer. Won't hesitate to put a bullet between the eyes of anyone that gets close."

"So...she's just like everyone else."

Kash was growing impatient, "She single-handedly took out a pack of hunters in Brooklyn. No one knew it was her. Then another crew came in and she pretended to have survived the massacre. They took her in, someone wanting to fuck her. She stayed with them for a while, til she learned their weaknesses, then she killed everyone but her lover. She told him what she did, gave him a pistol with one shot and took off. He booked it to the nearest QZ."

"She sounds resourceful," Joel added, turning back to his gear and pulling on his backpack.

"You're gonna go after her?" Kash asked with a laugh.

Joel turned back to Kash, shrugging, "She took something of mine. I want it back."

"You're insane."

"Maybe."

"She will kill you."

"I dunno if it's occurred to you, but everyone wants to kill everyone. She's not special for it."

Kash stared at Joel, "I want to go with you."

"What?" Joel's eyes widen in surprise.

"I want to go too. If she's really the Brooklyn Bitch, I want after her."

Joel shook his head, sighing, "I don't need _your_ help."

"I'm not going for you, asshole. I want to bag the Brooklyn Bitch."

"Why that name?"

"What do you mean?"

"What makes her a bitch?"

Kash stared back as if Joel was crazy, "You're kidding right?"

"You answered my question," Joel replied, heading for the door.

Kash quickly grabbed his gear and followed after Joel, who was less than pleased at the company.

-xXx-

As the pair walked down the street, Joel kept focused on the mission, but Kash was determined to talk aloud.

"I wonder what she's doing here," he said to Joel, who was barely listening, "We're pretty far North of her terf. She must be getting confident she can expand."

Joel said nothing.

"I brought a special knife just for this occasion," Kash continued, pulling a long jagged blade from his bag. He stared down at it, admiring the item.

"Are you going to talk the whole trip?"

Kash shot a look at Joel, "Look, you want your gear back, I want something better."

"Killin' her gonna make you feel like a big man, Kash?"

Kash stopped walking, dropping his hands to his side, the knife gripped tightly in his fist. He stared after Joel, a look on his face that showed him to be debating killing Joel right at the moment. Joel kept walking, seemingly oblivious. Kash looked down at his knife.

"Good luck finding her with me dead," Joel threw in casually, still walking with his back to Kash.

Kash let out a dark laugh and put his knife away, "You really think I need you?"

"No, you probably know exactly what she looks like and are really good at navigating."

"You run your mouth too much to people, Joel."

"Not people, just you."

Kash caught up to Joel, shaking his head, "Just focus on finding her. I'll take care of the rest."

"Unless she gets you first…"


End file.
